


A Man After Midnight

by fandomtrash2611



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: 221B Baker Street, Angry John, Angry Sherlock, Confessions, Drunk John, Experienced Sherlock, Fighting, First Time, Fluffy, Friendship, Grief, Hidden Feelings, Hurt John Watson, Kisses, Lonely John, Loss and Grief, Love, M/M, Mary Dies, Mary is just mentioned, Mary is still a bad guy, Not Beta Read, Pining John, Post-Episode: s03e03 His Last Vow, Post-Season/Series 03, Purple Shirt of Sex, Regret, Self-Hatred, Sex, Sherlock Holmes Has Feelings, Smutty, Stag Night, The Reichenbach Fall, Top John Watson, always 1895, definitely smutty, insipred by a song, lots of pinning, pinning, row, saving his life, sry for any mistakes, they are simply in love, touches
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-02
Updated: 2021-01-02
Packaged: 2021-03-12 01:54:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,085
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28502544
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fandomtrash2611/pseuds/fandomtrash2611
Summary: John is home alone, sleepless and thinking about all the things that had happened with Mary and Sherlock. Drunk he decides to head for a walk on this cold autumn night and ends up in front of Baker Street. He decides to head upstairs and sort things between Sherlock and him, but instead the two of them end up in a rough fight with a different ending than expected...
Relationships: Mary Morstan/John Watson, Sherlock Holmes & John Watson
Comments: 2
Kudos: 10





	A Man After Midnight

**Author's Note:**

> Hello guys!
> 
> Quick update before I head to work in a bit. :)   
> This popped into my head while driving to work a while ago, listening to ABBA and "Gimme Gimme Gimme (A Man After Midnight)" was on. I thought, why not write something like it? Well it turned out quite different but I kept the title since it is somehow fitting.  
> I do hope you enjoy this. :) 
> 
> love, Y.

John was drunk. He sat on the small sofa in his tiny appartement and watched some crap telly. It was half past twelve and a stormy autumn wind was blowing outside. He felt lonely and couldn’t stop thinking about Mary and Sherlock. He was sad about what had happened with his wife. Sad that she had lost the baby and had died in the process of giving birth. He wasn’t sure he could have been a good father. Not after everything that had happened. John was thankful that it had ended like this thought. Had ended with him being on his own once more. Especially after his wife had shot his best friend in cold blood just to not lose him! He laughed at the irony of it. 

But there was more that troubled his mind on this windy, cold autumn night. Things between Sherlock and him had been odd since that night his best friend had nearly died again in the living room of 221B, while uncovering who had shot him. John’s thoughts lingered with that evening. He could feel the familiar feeling of anger rise. He had been angry and if it hadn’t been for Sherlock to calm him, he had no idea what would have happened that night. The shadows of that night and the funeral haunted him. The look Sherlock had shot him at the funeral. While lying in his arms in their living room, bleeding and half death. A look of helplessness, sadness and regret.

John had trouble sleeping since then, so tonight. He had started drinking to help him sleep. To help him drown the thoughts that kept him awake. After half a bottle of Scotch was empty, he took his phone from the small table and dialled Sherlock’s number. But before the detective could pick up, he ended the call once more. Stupid! Stop calling him drunk Watson!

“Fuck”, he grumbled, tossed his phone on the sofa and headed to the window. 

He opened it and breathed in the cool night air, looking down the street and into the dark. But  however he tried to silence his mind, John’s thoughts lingered with Sherlock this time and he wished to see his friend. Tell him his thoughts and make things right between them. But he knew it was no good. Sherlock was angry at him and it was his right to be. The doctor wasn’t sure if the detective would forgive him so he hesitated yet he missed his flatmate terribly. The cases, being close to what they had. A special bond, way more than friendship... 

John had another glass of Whiskey and another one and it was past midnight when he grabbed his coat and restlessness made him go out, heading for a walk. The streets where empty and only a few people crossed his ways. Mostly young party goers, couples on date night. A few drunk ones, a few workers. London was still awake at this time of night. A city that never truly sleeps. The wind was cold and rough and John buried his hands deep in the pockets of his leather jacket while he wandered through the streets. Passing places Sherlock and he had been together, had solved cases, had looked for suspects...

Without thinking, he ended up in front of Baker Street two hours later. The street was deserted, the night calmer now and he wasn’t sure if it was right to be here. Yet his foggy mind didn’t let in any doubt so he grabbed his old keys and opened the front door of 221B. Quietly and drunk he headed upstairs to their shared flat and found Sherlock in the living room on the sofa. The detective was sleeping and John just looked at him. Sitting in his old armchair, eyes on the lean figure of his friend. His dark curls, the light stubbles on his cheeks, his alabaster skin and full kissable lips. His thoughts drifted and John quickly shoved them away. He had always loved to watch Sherlock as often as he could, which was very rare. The detective looked younger when he slept and peaceful. After about half an hour, he woke up and was startled to see John.

“John, what are you doing here?”, he wanted to know.

He only wore the purple shirt and black trousers. The shirt was more unbuttoned than usual, half tucked into his trousers, half out and his curls more ruffled than was usually the case.

“I... I couldn’t sleep”, the doctor said. 

Sherlock mumbled something John didn’t understand before he stood up and walked to the window. Immediately he had deduced John’s state. Drunk, full of self-loathing, sad, melancholic, over-thinking and horny.

“What do you want John?”, he asked careful and defensive. 

“I came to apologise.”

Sherlock stayed silent. John sighed and stood up, stepping a bit closer to the detective. Sherlock stiffened and fell into his old  scheme of shoving John away.

“I wanted to apologise for everything that happened. With Mary. I’m so sorry I married her and shoved you away. That you got shot. That I was too stupid to see the whole picture...”

“John”, Sherlock interrupted him. “Shut up.”

John did immediately but mostly because he was shocked at what Sherlock had just said. He had never said this to him. Sherlock let his hand slide through his ruffled hair and sighed.

“I’m sorry I... It’s been a long week”, Sherlock then said.

“No, it’s me who has to be sorry. As I said, I'm sorry we barely spoke and the whole Mary thing...”

“It’s alright.”

“There’s more though. I... I miss you.”

“ John... ”

“I miss the cases, the nights together while we tried to solve something and had just take-out on the floor. Your crazy violin playing in the middle of the night.”

“John... It’s best if you just don’t say more...”

“But I truly do. I do miss all this. I miss you.”

John stood closer now and Sherlock could feel his body behind him. 

“Sherlock....”

“John... Don’t!”

“But why not? I... I wanted to tell you for years but then you suddenly left. You fell and left me alone. I... I miss you Sherlock. I want what we had back.”

“What did we had then?”, he asked annoyed and turned to John.

But the soldier had no answer at all. He wasn’t even sure what had been between the two of them. There had been something during his stag night. Yet no one had dared to talk about it the next day when both had been sobber again. 

“You don’t know, don’t you?”, Sherlock snarled. “You don’t because you don’t care at all! You just want the old routine. Solving crimes, being here. Nothing more John!”

Angry about the whole situation and way too tired, he headed to his bedroom but John followed. Shouting as well now.

“I don’t care? I don’t care?! Are you fucking serious? Of course, I care! I care probably more than you do!”

Sherlock turned around in the hallway and glared down at the doctor. Angry and hurt about what John had said.

“Don’t you dare say that to me!”, he said way calmer than he was. “Not after everything!”

“But it’s true!”, John shouted drunkenly. “You don’t seem to want everything back!”

“Stop saying that! I was the one who died for you to save your life!”, Sherlock shouted now and his hands clenched to fists. “I jumped and left everything behind for you!  So Moriarty wouldn’t kill you! He knew you were my pressure point. My weakness. I did it for you John, everything!”

John was stunned. What had he just said? He blinked at his old flatmate and stayed silent. 

“ So don’t you fucking dare say to me that I don’t care! I care a lot! I cared from the moment I met you. I jumped to protect you and when I came back, you just fucking married... HER!”, Sherlock shouted, completely  losing control in all those years. “You left me, John Watson! You left me and now you’re crawling back! Thinking everything could be the same?”

“You died for me?”, John asked and looked at the tears in Sherlock’s eyes.

“I did in that hospital John! My heart stopped and I only came back for you! But I died so many more times because you were not there in the last years. You left...”

“But... Why? Why did you do all this?!”

“Because I love you!”, Sherlock now shouted and looked down at the doctor. “I love you since you saved my life that night. I love you all those years and you never saw anything! You ignored it!”

“I...”, John stammered, out of words and only slowly processing what Sherlock threw at him.

“I tried so many times John. So many  times, to find out how you would feel. So many times, to make a move and you never responded. You never cared!”

Immediately old pictures appeared in front of Joh’s inner eye. Pictures of Sherlock actually making a move and him shoving his feelings away. Sherlock inviting him to dinner for his birthday. Sherlock, making him tea when he was sick. Sherlock touching him more than was necessary. Sherlock insisting on John sleeping in his bed when there had been a leak in the roof over John’s room. Sherlock’s angry looks when he headed to another date or out for a shag with some unimportant girl he had met. Shit... John only looked at him for a moment longer when Sherlock stared down at him. Seeing the realisation in the doctor's eyes. Yet he was still angry. Angry that they had wasted all this time with not telling each other. Angry that it had ended like this and they had drifted apart even more during the last months and Mary’s death.

Without thinking John pulled him down and pressed their lips forcefully together a moment later, shutting the younger one up. Sherlock’s back was soon pressed against the hallway wall and he kissed John back after a moment of hesitation. This was what he had wanted all those years ago. All this time back to when there was just the two of them. There were no words needed and John felt as if a heavy weight had been lifted from his mind. He felt safe and warm. Happy even. They were panting and their lungs shouted for air but neither of them wanted to let go. John’s hips pressed against Sherlock’s tight and both wanted to be closer. Both finally parted and gasped for air. 

“John...”, Sherlock breathed.

“Sherlock... I... I love you too”, he then said and kissed him once more. “And I’m sorry. Sorry for what I said. Sorry she shot you. Sorry I left you in the first place.”

“I’m sorry too”, Sherlock mumbled after they had parted once more. “I’m sorry I jumped. Sorry I said this to you. I didn’t mean it.”

“No need to be. I understand now.”

John didn’t feel drunk anymore. He felt sober but there was also something different. Lust. He wanted Sherlock. Wanted to love him, to hold him and to kiss him and tell him that all was fine. John let his fingers slide over Sherlock’s cheek and then kissed him once more. The detectives back was still against the wall and he craved for John’s touch. This time it was Sherlock who took control, grabbed John’s wrists and pushed him against the other side of the hallway wall. John moaned when Sherlock rubbed himself against the doctor and kissed him passionately again. Sherlock shoved him to his bedroom, tearing the shirt off of John and tossing it to the floor before he kissed him again and again. 

“Sherlock”, John moaned lustfully. 

“I want you”, Sherlock said and fumbled at John’s belt. 

John let him. Shoving every distracting thought and doubt out of his mind. Just concentrating on the younger one’s hand that fumbled at the fabric of his trousers and ran over his torso. Concentrating on his soft warm lips against his. Their breaths mingling and their bodies touching. John tasted of Scotch. He had been drinking, Sherlock deduced while kissing the older one longingly.

“Sherlock”, John breathed. “I thought we will talk”, he joked a bit before his hands moved over the still covered chest of his flatmate.

“Enough talking for now”, Sherlock said and kissed John passionately again.

John chuckled and knew that he was right. He softly let his hands wander over Sherlock’s chest and opened one button after the other while he shoved him to the door and pinned him against it with his hips. Sherlock moaned into the nightly silence of 221B. And John’s thoughts drifted to his stag night... Some insecure fumbling in a darked corner like teenagers. Too shy to say what they want. Too drunk to go further. Some quick kisses, rushed, so no one would see them. More kisses in their flat. Some ridiculous games and more alcohol. Some more clumsy attempts and then the client arriving, ending all this. Sherlock could feel that John was distracted and asked him about it.

“What is it? Something’s wrong.”

“Nothing... Kiss me!”, John demanded and Sherlock obeyed. 

It would definitely not end like this. John would personally make sure that no one interrupted them. He fumbled at the lock and managed to lock them in. Sherlock was surprised.

“John? What are you doing?”, he asked while the older one kissed his long neck, down to his shoulders and up to his ear again.

“Nothing will interrupt us this time”, he said and Sherlock was a bit confused but then  remembered what he meant and laughed.

“No, nothing will.”

John unbuttoned Sherlocks purple shirt – he had always been quite fond of it – and tossed it to the floor. Secretly he had referred to it as the Purple Shirt of Sex because it did something to him every time the Detective had choose to wear it and that was quite often. John’s kisses wandered over Sherlock’s chest while the young man had closed his eyes to savour every minute of this in his mind palace. John’s firm hands, his lips on him. He moaned when John’s hands travelled further and teased him through the fabric of his trousers. John chuckled playfully kissed him again.

“I wasn’t sure coming here was the right thing to do tonight”, John confessed while he continued. “But I felt lonely and wanted to sort things because you’re my best friend.”

“I’m happy you did”, Sherlock said breathlessly and moaned once more. 

“Me too”, John said by his ear and playfully nibbled at his earlobe what made Sherlock chuckle because it tickled. 

John smiled. He had never seen Sherlock like this. Happy, playful, aroused and a mess in his hands. He loved it. Loved that they finally did this. After a few more moments, Sherlock shoved his hands away and hungrily pressed his lips against the doctor’s before he moved them to the bed, fumbling at John’s trousers once more until he had shoved them down. John stumbled on the bed and laughed before he pulled Sherlock on him. They bodies melted together, kissing, touching and time seemed endless until the urge to make love to each other grew too strong.

“John...”, John breathed and interrupted their kiss. “Make love to me.”

“You sure?”, John asked and kissed Sherlock’s slender and delicious neck.

“Yes.”

“Do you have...”

“Yes. Bedside table drawer”, he breathed and John laughed but obeyed and searched for what he was looking for, not in the slightest surprised that Sherlock had everything they needed.

He wasn’t a man who had sex often, John had realised over the years they had lived together. But he sure as hell did, John remembered when he once had found him with another man in bed all those years ago. But now he was finally his. John shoved all the thoughts away and slowly continued what they had started by getting rid of both of their underwear. He took a moment to fully look at the detective who now lay under him. 

“You’re fucking gorgeous Sherlock”, he said stunned and the younger one blushed.

“I want you on top”, he suddenly said nervous. “You’re in charge.”

“Okay”, John said and kissed him again before he carefully touched him. 

Sherlock’s body was sensitive to John’s touch and he felt as if he would explode every moment. Yet he tried to control his lust, his want and waited for John’s next move. John continued his sweet torture and after a while they finally made love. The feeling was incredible for both of them and both took it slow. Slow trusts of John, soft moans of Sherlock and the upcoming  orgasm not far away. 

“ Sherlock... Look at me”, John said and Sherlock obeyed and opened his eyes. 

They were full of lust and want and love, John realised and smiled happily before he pressed their lips together and moved his hips again. Sherlock’s long legs were wrapped around him and held him close, hands clinging to each other.

“I love you”, he said after their kiss, trying to control his body.

A soft gasp of John’s name was all the detective was capable of before he moaned once more at John’s trust. But the doctor did nothing to speed up his movements and it made him nuts.

“John... Please”, he mumbled and the doctor smiled and suddenly speed up his movements.

From that moment on it didn’t take long until both of them climaxed together. Sherlock shouted his name and John did the same, buried his neck in the detective’s and found release in the arms of the man he loved.

Both needed quite long to recover and stayed where they were, sweaty bodies sticking together, slow kisses and tender touches. 

“Please promise me you’ll never leave again”, Sherlock said to John, ruffling through his hair tenderly.

“I promise”, the doctor said without hesitation. 

Sherlock hummed happily and completely exhausted. Making love to John had been special, as he had suspected. It had been way different from any shag he has had over the years since they all had meant nothing, but John meant everything. 

Quietly they both lay in each other’s arms and soon fell asleep and it was the first night in days that John slept through without nightmares and shadows that haunted him. The shadows were finally gone  because now he had Sherlock by his side.


End file.
